


Reverie

by cruisedirector



Category: Master and Commander (movie), Master and Commander - All Media Types
Genre: Age of Sail, Bathing/Washing, Coming Untouched, Consent, Endearments, Friendship/Love, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Music, Oral Sex, Resolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-03
Updated: 2003-12-03
Packaged: 2017-10-03 09:13:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruisedirector/pseuds/cruisedirector
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack puts down the violin and tends to Stephen's wounds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reverie

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to "Surprise", originally intended to be part of that story, but I ran out of time for the Contrelamontre challenge. People seemed to like that one for being restrained and un-smutty; this one kind of blows that apart. Like "Surprise", this is set entirely in the world of the film, contains spoilers and violates book canon. Ashinae did beta duty.

After he finished a second lighthearted Irish fiddle tune, Jack played the melody of Stephen's favorite Bach sonata. Resting on the cot with his side aching, Stephen was tempted to close his eyes and fall asleep with the music lulling him. But he did not want to take his gaze from Jack, who was swaying with the long, high notes, more relaxed than Stephen had seen him in some time.

When Jack finished, he put the violin back into its case, closed it and returned to Stephen's side. Kneeling on the floor, he said, "I've brought fresh water and clothes. You must be dreadfully uncomfortable. Let me cool you down."

Stephen hid his discomfort behind an astonished laugh. "Is this a polite way of telling me that I reek of sweat? Perhaps you should fetch Higgins to bathe me."

But Jack's swift grin put him at ease. "You reek no more than I do, certainly, for you have had your bandages changed while I am wearing the same shirt in which I first disembarked. And Higgins, I am afraid, is treating a midshipman who sprained an ankle climbing over the black rocks of these islands without watching his step."

Tugging away the blanket thrown loosely over Stephen, Jack rolled it and placed it behind his head, then began to unwind the stained cloth covering his side. "You will tell me if this is too uncomfortable?" he asked. "I had thought that you might appreciate a cool cloth on your skin."

"This is most kind of you, Jack," Stephen murmured, wondering if the flush on his cheeks could be seen in the dim light, and if so, whether Jack would assume it was simply the heat that had caused it. He was curious about what his friend was thinking as Jack gently wiped a damp cloth down his body, making him shiver occasionally as the chilly water ran over his sensitized flesh.

Jack's free hand rested firmly on Stephen's shoulder, preventing him from wriggling and tearing loose his sutures. The strokes were smooth and even, and Jack's features were contentedly peaceful, not the studied calm that in Jack often signified boredom. He smiled when he discovered Stephen watching him, leaning over to brush the cloth over Stephen's forehead, and the combination of Jack's warmth, the pressure of his body and the tenderness of his fingers sent a shudder of arousal through Stephen.

Perhaps, Stephen hoped, Jack would not notice the effect that his touch was having, or at least would mistake it for a humiliating effect of his wound; but after a moment Jack grinned at him and said, "My dear, you seem to be recovering nicely," lifting Stephen's hand over his head and wetting the cloth again before stroking it along the underside of Stephen's arm. When Stephen bit his lip to hold back a moan, Jack chuckled and leaned over him again, breath hot against his face.

"I will take care of you, if you will let me," he promised, then went back to smoothing water over Stephen's skin, moving unhurriedly from his underarms to his navel and lower, tugging clothing and blankets aside. Breath hitching, Stephen murmured a protest and tried to catch Jack's hand, but Jack only pushed his wrist away and told him to hold still before he caused himself further injury.

Once Jack had Stephen fully uncovered, he washed him quite forthrightly, making no gesture to stimulate him further but not trying to avoid his arousal. There was little that Stephen could do besides try to keep his breathing steady and hold his hips still, despite the growing urge to press into Jack's hands. He closed his eyes, knowing that his flushed face and fingers gripping the sides of the cot would betray him far enough.

Stephen felt Jack shift and glanced up to watch him drape the cloth over the side of the bowl of water, which was on the floor below his feet. When Jack looked up as he sat up, he caught Stephen's glance, and Stephen recognized from the color in Jack's face, the dilation of his pupils and the way he exhaled rapidly through his mouth that Jack had become aroused as well.

At first he thought that Jack would speak, perhaps to ask for permission to touch him again, but to have done so would have been to require an acknowledgment that something altogether new was transpiring, so he kept silent. Jack's hands traced a reverse course from when he had held the cloth, but his fingertips were deliciously warm on Stephen's skin, halting each time they caused a twitch or harsh breath. When Jack was stretched fully over him, he lowered his weight onto an elbow and settled at Stephen's side, tilting Stephen's head toward him with a touch of his palm against Stephen's chin.

The first kiss was tender, so gentle that it might have been a goodnight if Jack had not slid his trouser-clad leg over Stephen's bare one, drawing their bodies closer on the cot. A moment later his arm followed, moving from Stephen's chin across his collarbone to clasp his shoulder. Reaching up, Stephen traced a thumb along the line of Jack's jaw before wrapping his hand behind his head to draw him down.

The kisses seemed strange, for Stephen knew that he must remain still on his back or risk tearing open his wound, and so he could not respond fully, nor take the dominant position as he was accustomed. Paradoxically, his enforced stillness provoked him all the more. Jack was quite stiff against Stephen's hip, pressing indiscreetly despite his trousers between them, moaning as he rocked; when Stephen groaned a quiet response, he slid his hand slowly down Stephen's chest, taking care not to move too near his wound, until his fingers wrapped around Stephen's swollen flesh and began to stroke more rapidly than the slow thrust of his tongue into Stephen's mouth.

"Jack," Stephen gasped around a kiss. His hips wrenched upward, held down by Jack's weight against his side.

"Be still, before you worsen your wound," chided Jack, moving his leg fully across Stephen's body and raising himself over him. Their eyes met, Jack's hand still moving on him, and Stephen lifted his head to seek another kiss. Jack met his lips, but a moment later his mouth pressed to Stephen's chin, then his throat, then the center of his chest, and Stephen guessed at his intended destination.

He thrust up unthinking, and burning pain flared in his side. His cry was louder than was prudent, and Jack lifted his head with mirth in his eyes. "Hush," the captain advised, "or one of the men by the boats will hear and think that I am torturing you with my clumsy skill at bandages."

Then Jack's mouth was upon Stephen, licking and sucking with surprising enthusiasm. He settled over one of Stephen's legs and began to rock gently, keeping one hand pressed to Stephen's abdomen to prevent the doctor from straining himself. Stephen felt feverish, caught between the burning ache in his gut and the delightful heat in his loins, yet the dampness that covered his skin did not have the clamminess of infection; he thought that he was sweating out the poisons in his body, that Jack was drawing them all from him with his hands and his kisses and his clever mouth, now and again pausing to expel a sigh as his own need grew.

Abruptly Jack groaned again and shuddered all over. His body jerked against Stephen's leg, and he tore his mouth away, still holding Stephen in his hand, gritting his teeth and gasping. He seemed to be trying not to cry out.

Stephen watched him convulse -- Jack in the very throes of pleasure, untouched even by his hand -- and knew that he could have received no greater relief from his suffering, for gladness suffused him. This felt effortless as music when they fell into harmonious play. He had not imagined this sort of intimacy with Jack, yet it felt right that they should share it, or if not, Stephen deemed it a much smaller sin than the bitter words that had sprung between them on the ship before his injury.

"Joy," he whispered when Jack's trembling had slowed, seeing that Jack's head was bowed. Stephen thought he might have been ashamed. Indeed, when Jack glanced up to meet his gaze, there was regret and perhaps fear, though there was also wonder; and a moment later he pressed a kiss to Stephen's hip before moving his mouth over him once more. Still fearful of tearing open his sutures, Stephen tried not to rock his hips, but he let his hands wander to Jack's head, stroking through his hair, and bent his neck to watch Jack's upper body bobbing up and down with his strokes as if he were playing an instrument.

The wound throbbed, but rather than wincing at the pain, Stephen let it tug him back slightly from the peak, and smiled as Jack, feeling the tension in his body, stroked a reassuring palm across his belly. "Dear one," he murmured, and felt the answering hum vibrate through him, lodging at the base of his spine. Although his quickened breathing sharpened the ache in his side, he was close to completion; he looked down once more to etch the image into memory, feeling a great swell of love overtake him at the same moment as release, which burst from him until Jack could contain no more and let his hand capture the flood.

When Jack sat back, reaching for the cloth with which he had been bathing Stephen, the doctor could see clearly the wet stain spreading across his trousers and the dark flush creeping down his throat. "Thank you," he murmured, "Dear Jack, you are very good to me." Jack smiled at him, yet Stephen could see the uncertainty in his glance, and so he held out his hand: "Come here."

Jack accepted the clasp of Stephen's fingers, but he seemed not to understand what it was that Stephen was asking until Stephen had tugged him so far forward that Jack nearly lost his balance and had to place his other hand on the cot. Perhaps, thought Stephen wistfully, Jack would refuse to kiss him now, believing that it should offend; but a moment later Jack seemed to grasp his wishes, and, leaning carefully over him to avoid pressing down on his bandages, brought their mouths together as his palm cupped Stephen's head to draw it upward without strain.

They kissed softly, sweetly, while Stephen cautiously tasted his seed on Jack's lips -- something he had only experienced before with bawdy women, and not often even then. After a few moments, Jack lowered himself to Stephen's side and, reaching the into the bowl of water beside the cot, began to clean Stephen's thighs and belly with gentle strokes of the cloth. Stephen tried not to shiver, but the water was cool and he was always very sensitive to touch soon after making love. After a moment Jack lay the cloth aside, looking at him with uncharacteristic uncertainty.

"Are you uncomfortable? Shall I change your bandages?"

"They will be fine until morning, and I am quite content." Retrieving a discarded blanket from the floor, Jack spread it over Stephen's legs and pulled it to his waist, tucking it cautiously around him. "You seem uncomfortable, however. Are you sorry, Jack?"

"No, you must not think so," replied Jack, chagrined. "I only worried for a moment that I might have made you strain yourself."

"I encouraged you," Stephen reminded him.

"That is true." A grin lit Jack's face, and Stephen hoped that would be the end of the matter, but then the smile faded. "You must think I have taken leave of my reason. You have the explanation of your fever and the pain of your wound. But what can I say to you to explain myself?"

"Jack, please. You have been under a terrible strain pursuing the Acheron, and I daresay you were afraid that I would die of my wound. It's only natural that you would seek some outlet for your tension."

"But, Stephen, I would never think of you that way!" Some of Stephen's dismay must have shown on his face, for Jack quickly amended, "I mean, as something to be used only as an outlet for my tension. I love you far too much for that."

"That is explanation enough." Stephen found that he had to turn his gaze from Jack, for tears were welling in his eyes. "Please let there be no apologies between us, and no shame."

"No shame," echoed Jack, nodding, his voice suspiciously thick as well. His hand found Stephen's over the blanket and clasped it tightly. After a few minutes he hazarded a glance, and when Stephen smiled at him, he leaned over and brushed their lips together.

"Shall I torment the fiddle awhile longer?"

Had he felt slightly more robust, Stephen would have asked Jack to stay with him there on the cot, to come up behind him and lie on his side, pressing their hips and shoulders together until the contact inevitably brought them again to arousal. Even if he could not respond in his current state of affliction, Stephen would have wished for it nonetheless, but he feared that Jack might resist him, and he did not wish to bring any discord into their present sweet harmony. So he nodded, and kissed Jack once more before releasing him.

Jack played the melody from a Haydn trio that was sweet and quiet, almost a lullabye, though he shifted uncomfortably as he moved and Stephen thought that his damp clothing must have chafed. When Jack finished, he said, "I think that I shall sleep," though he would gladly have lain awake and listened longer, until he could not hold his eyes open.

With a grateful smile, Jack nodded and replaced the violin in its case, then stood holding it awkwardly in front of him, not quite disguising the stain on his trousers. Swallowing a grin, Stephen reached out a hand, tugging the other man closer, but Jack did not bend to him and he did not try to force him. "I will see you tomorrow," he said, foregoing any endearment, yet after a moment Jack's free hand brushed Stephen's side, just above his wound, before rising to his shoulder and squeezing once.

After Jack had gone with the lantern, promising to send one of the men from the boats to look after him until Higgins could return, Stephen lay in the darkness replaying the evening's music in his mind. Each note summoned another memory -- an image, a scent, a taste, a touch -- that finally lulled him to sleep, so that when he first woke, Stephen was unsure whether he had dreamed it all while Jack played.


End file.
